


The Boy From District 8

by Figgycake



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Backstory, Canon Backstory, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Figgycake/pseuds/Figgycake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is incomplete.</p></blockquote>





	The Boy From District 8

The young boy of fifteen years looked at his reflection in the cracked, dusty mirror that stood at his bedside. He undid the topmost button of his crisp white shirt to expose the purple silk which he had deftly knotted into a cravat. It was a family heirloom - one that had been passed on to generation after generation of Shermans for as long anyone could remember.

"Marisol," he called out from behind his shoulder to his sister, who was changing behind the doors of the wardrobe in their abysmally small home, "Isn't it funny how we wear our best clothes on Reaping Day? It's like nothing's more important - not birthdays, not weddings... No, the most important day of the year is to celebrate the impending doom of twenty-three poor kids."

Marisol let out a slightly muffled snort. "Don't get me started Cin," she said in her tinkling, soft voice. Cinna could hear the sound of zipping while he combed his hair in the mirror, when suddenly he was distracted by his sister's reflection as she emerged from behind the door.

"Mari, you're wearing it!" he cried happily. Marisol tinkled once again, twirling around prettily. She was clad in a white dress that ended just above her knees. The fabric wove around her neck and criss-crossed across her dainty bare back, hugging her sun-kissed brown skin for dear life. Tiny stones embellished the front in a delightful pattern that shimmered as she twirled. It was a beautiful dress -and Cinna had made it.

He had spent months planning for a special present to give Marisol for her seventeeth birthday. Every day, he would sit at his spinning wheel and churn out spools of yarn that he could trade for some good cloth. Whenever he could, Cinna would sneak off into the woods to pick berries and fruit to trade - in fact, it was a particularly large tub of fresh raspberries that got him the sparkling gems that adorned the bodice of the dress. They were plastic, of course - but it was not very easy to tell.

Cinna had gone to The Moonshine Pub, which in it's truest sense was far more than that. He was not a regular there, and he stood out glaringly against the much older, grittier crowd. The young boy walked straight up to Mornie behind the bar, and laid a jute bag upon the table and stood there, not saying a word. Old Mornie grabbed the bag and inspected its contents, and with a grunt and nod, he rummaged under the bar and threw a package in Cinna's general direction. He caught it deftly and immediately tore it open. There it was - Soft, white fabric that was a blend of cotton and some other artificial fibres. Cinna rushed out hurriedly and immediately set to work.

He wanted to make it the best birthday present ever. And to Marisol, it certainly was.

**Author's Note:**

> This is incomplete.


End file.
